Flames To An Evening
by Apollo Wings
Summary: NSFW - Post-Winter Palace, a dance between Isadora Lavellan and Solas becomes much more. Cover art of Isadora by the talented Chenria of Deviant Art - link on profile to full image.


**Author note: **The other people over on facebook goaded me into it! They're a bad influence!

Jokes, I'm just as bad, if not worse! Let the smut/love commence.

**Disclaimer: **Dragon Age is owned by BioWare and EA. This fic is M rated for a reason, that reason being very lemon flavoured sex scenes, which border on the sub/dom relationship. You are all warned.

* * *

><p><strong>Flames To An Evening<strong>

It was heady, to be in love with someone so utterly that just their mere presence was enough to captivate your whole attention. But even with the cool evening air chilling her bare shoulders in the heavy Orlesian gown, Isadora felt unbelievably warm, cocooned somewhat in a warm shell that was 'them'.

The fellow elf was a remarkable dancer, his arm cradling her lower back as she held to his shoulder, fingers digging into the fabric so she didn't twirl away. She pursed her lips, smiling giddily. "What are you thinking, da'vhenan?" he asked.

Isadora bit her bottom lip, letting her head fall forward on the plush red of the dress robes Solas had been made to wear for the evening. They were a world away from his usual oversized robes with furred collar, these were tailored to his form, smart. "That you dance wonderfully for a man wearing shoes."

"I thought you were doing well too." he jabbed back. Without letting go of the other, only faltering from the winding, romantic dance for a second - the elves kicked their shoes off, letting them skitter off the balcony. Isadora chuckled, baring her throat for a second in which he captured it, laving soft kisses on the evening cooled skin.

Solas' lips were hot on her, his own mute laughter tickling her neck enough that she had to hold onto him in case she fell over. Isadora's hand roamed upward, cradling his skull in her palms as she brought him to her lips, the ridiculous hat that he'd been made to wear tumbling away.

They broke apart for a moment, tangled together, fire in his eyes and invitation in hers. "Must we keep dancing?" she breathed, trying to catch herself, glancing back into the ballroom to see so many couples still waltzing on the floor.

Solas leaned into her, swaying her into the dance again as if they'd done nothing. His words trailed along the taper of her ear. "For a while longer, you cannot leave early. That you dance so openly with an apostate doesn't bode well for your reputation."

"I believe the phrase for the situation is 'to the Void with my reputation'!" Isadora shuddered lightly as his hand reached the small of her back again. "Besides..." she trailed off as she felt the tiniest rejuvenating magic seep into her bones. "besides, I happen to be an apostate too."

"A very determined apostate." he smirked. Solas moved them out of sight for a moment, away from the long Orlesian windows and into the shadows where they couldn't be spotted. Isadora had to bite onto her knuckles not to make a noise as his hands smoothed up the heavy boned corset of the dress, tendrils of magic flooding her skin as keenly as touch itself. "But with such indomitable focus, I do wonder what a sight it would be to watch you become dominated."

Isadora groaned into her fingers, biting harder as the magical touch met her ribs, inching closer to her nipples. All at once Solas stopped, a sly grin on his handsome features. She barely restrained an impatient whimper. "Did you wish to keep dancing, da'vhenan?" he asked innocently.

She wet her lips, feeling the rush of the dangerous game they were playing. "Lets."

By moonlight they moved, keeping in sight of the ball and earshot of the changing music. It slowed, a soft sad song, and as if by the magic of suggestion they did too, moving closer, swaying in calm melody together. Isadora looked up through her eyelashes, heart skipping in her chest for a moment as she watched the utmost concentration on his face, eyes closed and mouth pursed as if he'd break that formal spell again.

"If I were to be dominated, Solas," she let his name rest on her tongue for a while, delighted at the furrow between his brows as he tried to concentrate on the dance. This particular one had been drummed into her for weeks now at the order of ambassador Josephine Montilyet so she glided on the cold stone balcony, feet doing the thinking for her. "I should be completely at the mercies of someone I trusted."

The fellow apostate sucked in a quick gasp, his jaw clenching. He glided with the long, sad notes of the violin, keeping her close. "And your trust lies?" he asked carefully, breathing shallow.

"It lies with you, ma lath. Did you doubt?" Isadora smiled, the heartwrenching plucking of harp behind the graceful violin flicking on an inner nerve that moved her as much as her feet and the persuasion of warm hands. Solas' eyes opened, mouth curling happily until it crashed into hers. It was fire and passion in contrast to the music, filling her with choking, glorious, breath-stealing floods, her magical energy reacting with his like never before. It was more than the sensual soft caress of faux-fingers on her skin, but a beautiful invasion to her inner, hidden self.

And still they danced, closer, the music twanging at them. They were no longer the structure and form of great dancers, but huddled together, letting the sound move them. "Please, we should leave." she finally broke away slightly, pulling Solas by the hand as she padded through the ballroom.

None noticed them slip so silently, then rush through the halls of the guest wing of the Winter Palace to the rooms they'd been given. Isadora fell against the hard wood, her heart thumping wildly as she fished in her pocket for the key. All the while, Solas' fingers worked the tight knots of the corset lacing down her back, pulling it apart.

With a steadier hand than she imagined, she pushed the key in the lock, stumbling through into a room as opulent as the rest of the palace. The Dalish elf spun, taking a small portion of the momentum back into her grasp and kissing him, taking his bottom lip between her teeth gently.

Solas' breathing hitched, as she pulled away. "I need to get this off." Isadora murmured. He nodded mutely as she sashayed over to the changing screen.

Behind the screen it was dark, and she rushed to be rid of the corset and layered dress, the silks and lace and heavy damask wrong in her fingers until she was comfortably nude in the glow of magelight over her shoulder. Isadora sighed, feeling everything but beautiful as she emerged naked from behind the screen.

She smiled hesitantly at him, eyes drawn down the long lines of his body, breathing stunted as she glanced at his nakedness, her mouth drying. Wordlessly he stood, meeting her halfway across the room and kissing her gently. "Da'vhenan." he muttered into her collarbone as she held tight to him, an assault of pure magic writing in her skin for long enough to take her breath away.

He was careful, almost restrained as he carried her, bare skin on skin, his hands trailing on her stomach and sides as he laid her down on the coverlets. "Ma'arlath." Isadora sighed, head falling back into the soft mattress as he reached her thighs.

It was not as she'd imagined, or tried on herself, as Solas stroked her inner thighs, the backs of his nails scraping lines which jolted though her, stealing more of her breath as her ribcage arched up into the dark of the room. It made her all the more impatient to for a more intimate touch, groaning with her lip between her teeth.

His eyes were light with mischief as he laid beside her, hand languidly coming to cup the small mound of her breast, nipple held in his index finger and thumb. Solas almost looked hungrily at her, lips parted as his eyes roamed over her, his breathing all but in time with hers as she reacted to his touch.

"Is this how you would see my will dominated?" she teased, unsure as the liquid heat of his eyes never changed. Solas wet his lips, taking in a deep breath as he leaned into her, lips inches away from her own.

"If you want it, you can truly be dominated." he goaded. His words settled in her belly and a nervous chuckle escaped her lips. "Just trust me."

"I'm yours, Solas." her voice was little more than a fervent whisper, breaking on the words as she kissed him. "Ma sa'lath."

A breath escaped him as she spoke, the reverence of a prayer hissing between his teeth that gave way to dark delight. He became hurried, lips trailing down her torso and fingers grasping around her hips, pulling her into his waiting lips and tongue.

It took everything she had and more not to cry out as he traced her folds with his tongue, holding her still as she squirmed beneath his ministrations. The magelight that she'd managed to maintain so far flickered as her focus was torn to shreds, leaving the room lit only by the embers of a fire that had warmed the room for them.

With no sight, the feeling of touch was almost too much, every small contact making shivers run up her spine and moans escape her lips unwittingly. Isadora tried to stifle herself, but it was relentlessness, the assault of his lips and tongue on her nub, she was already keening for release.

As she teetered on the edge, Solas stopped, leaving her without even his warm body against hers. The sudden alone left her reeling, a strangled, mournful cry slipping from her lips. Isadora breathed raggedly, having felt the edges of an eternity pulled away from her. There was a warm chuckle and using that alone she pounced, fueled by a lust that pushed her quarry into the soft expanse of the bed, straddling over him with her own mystic glee.

In almost no light she saw his grin, the pulse of his neck as she bent to him, biting down into the skin there. Solas groaned, his hands settling on her hips and fingers digging into her flesh. "Ar isala ma, emm'ara."

Isadora smiled to herself. "And you too, will be at my mercy. Do not think yourself the only one who can dominate."

He chuckled, a confident laugh that suited his name entirely, somehow pinning her beneath him in one quick movement that left her back on the bed, hair splayed around her and ready to receive him. To see him so uninhibited was a wonder in itself.

With an equally quick thrust, he was inside her. Isadora gasped, mewling in pleasure as Solas moved within her. She had never felt so bare, so candid... so powerful.

There was a good reason mages remained as true to themselves as possible, to keep demons at bay which preyed on inner desires. The same could be said of control too, lest their magic react to something. There was no control now, not even the semblance of it as their wills clashed, pushing and pulling as much as their physical bodies.

The internal struggle released her, draining everything she had in one dark, mute scream that left her throat exposed, filling the elf with a foggy bubbling that left her clinging onto Solas with everything that she was.

Solas wasn't far behind, groaning into her, sweat running down his back, Isadora's nails dragging him down as if he might go.

"Ma'arlath, emm'ara." he breathed, gulping as he fell bonelessly beside her. Isadora smiled warmly, feeling as drained as he in that moment, untangling her body from the mussed covers to pull them over the two of them.

She traced the edge of his ear with a weak hand. "Ma sa'lath."

He chuckled, taking her hand and kissing the palm softly.


End file.
